About a Boy
by TerraceBerceau
Summary: Did Guardian Angels exist? Mary Campbell sure seemed to think so. She knew one. Destiel.


I knew the moment I saw the tiny, wrinkly little baby in Mary's arms that I was in trouble.

Her pregnancy was anything but easy. Dean did not want to leave the warm space, and for several hours got his way. But she would not let him win, as a Campbell, and eventually all good things must end. He slid into the cool twilight of January, pure and innocent. John was over the moon in joy. This was long before he knew that his own wife was a hunter. This was a moment of peace.

After John had turned in for a few hours of precious sleep, Mary rocked tiny Dean. He had fallen asleep with her breast in his mouth, and she caressed his tiny face with all the love in her body. It finally hit her: this was her baby. Her flesh and blood. Her firstborn son. I watched the recognition in her eyes become fear. Hunters, even retired ones, could never escape the fear of infancy. Babies could not defend themselves.

"Castiel." She whispered to me, soft and sweet. "Please come and sit with me."

I obeyed her, as her guardian. I pulled back the rocking ottoman and sat down, mesmerized by tiny Dean. She smiled at my presence, and then her babe. Her shirt only covered one breast, the other in Dean's mouth, but she had no shame and I didn't want her to. His eyes fluttered in sleep, and I felt my whole body cave.

"He is beautiful, Mary."

"Yes." She agreed, stroking his head. "He is beautiful, but not protected."

"You can't protect the innocent forever."

Her eyes darkened. "No, but I can for awhile. I would like your protection."

"Mary..." I said, recognizing the significance of her plea. "I can only protect one."

"Then him. I'm going to live five more years, and then I will die. Adult Dean told me as much. He will have a brother, and I will be powerless to stop Azazel from infecting him. I need you to promise-PROMISE- that you  
Will protect Dean until you yourself are destroyed. You told me Dean has a purpose in stopping the apocalypse. Save him now."

"Mary... Even if I saved Dean, his decisions are his alone. He would be in control of his destiny. To change that would be to change free-will."

She was quiet for a moment, rocking the baby softly. Then, her eyes met mine.

"You must do what's necessary, Cas. If he asks you for help, help him. If he tells you to go away, keep an eye on him. Don't let my baby die in any way other than his destiny."

"And the brother?"

I was certain that she had not made any decisions about the brother, but her face fell as she revealed, "he will be Dean's responsibility to protect."

"So much responsibility for one human... Are you sure, Mary?"

The nod was answer enough. I stood to stroke the head of my new found charge. He cooed, filling me with warmth. I would protect Dean Winchester. I would keep him safe.

"Before you go, I have a question."

I paused at her doorway, an eyebrow cocked. "Yes?"

"When I die... John will be distraught, I imagine?" Her voice caught at the word die and I could see the insecurity on her lovely features. I nodded once, grave. "Then I wonder if there's a hunter who could instruct my children."

Already, she wanted to know that someone would teach them her family secrets. A name flashed through my mind, followed by a grumpy face and a clean, kind heartbeat.

"Bobby Singer."

She smiled. "Of course." And I could see that her trust would never wean. I opened the door, smiling back at her and my tiny charge, then leapt through the night. In heaven, my whole existence began the change of ownership.

I belonged to Dean Winchester.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dean grew up just fine.

He got into trouble, started fights, made bad decisions. Tried drugs, had sex, drank and lived. Even though Mary had passed and John was absent, Castiel had never forgotten his promise to protect Dean. He would drive the car home if Dean was too smashed. He bought Dean groceries, cleaned and healed his wounds. Caring for Dean without his knowledge was a full time job because Dean wouldn't have taken the help if it was offered.

When Dean was twenty, John came to find him.

The night was cold and drippy. John walked through the rain with only his leather jacket for protection. Dean's apartment happened to be right next to a strip club where he spent most of his time. The place was run down, dirty, and only had one neon sign blinking "Hot Nude Girls!" to a deserted street. John slid into the chair next to Dean's admiring the strippers from afar.

"Hope you have ones, old man, because I'm almost out."

"Not enough for both of us, and I know you've been here for too long."

Dean's eyes twitched, heavy from the drinks and the smokey atmosphere. He blinked at his father, suddenly curious. "How did you get here?"

"I drove, you numbskull."

"No shit, pops. But how did you know where the hell I was? I'm off the radar."

John almost choked his son. "I'm a fucking HUNTER, you idiot. If I can find a goddamn shapeshifting witch, I can find you."

That was answer enough. "Sweet." He said, sipping his beer agreeably.

"Also, you're not 21. And you know the law."

"Fuck the law. That law is only in place because some bitch's son wasn't careful. Eighteen is old enough, and twenty is just-"

John slapped his across his face a single time, knocking the beer out of his hand in the process. "Don't you dare disrespect me. Now pick up your shit, inform your landlord that you're leaving, and come with me. You have a job to do."

"A job? A fucking job?" He spat out a little blood. "Is that what you call what we do? We hunt MONSTERS, dad. That's what we do. We find the creepy-crawlies in the night: shit we should NOT be looking for, and we kill it. Them. And I'm sick of it."

"Don't be a pussy-"

"A PUSSY?!"

Dean's drunken ramble got a rise out of a man close enough to hear it. "Hey, you should go home, man, you're toasted." He put a hand on Dean's shoulder, which Dean did not like.

"Don't touch me or I'll cut you. And YOU, dad, I hope you get eaten by a chupacabra because you're acting like a kid. And yeah, that was a fucking chupacabra pun and I'M NOT APOLOGIZING BECAUSE IT WAS GLORIOUS. Now if you'll excuse me," he snarled, snatching his wallet off the table, "I have work."

John just stared at his son. Work? He mouthed at the guy who tried to help Dean home. The guy motioned the bar Dean was stumbling towards.

A bar. His son, he 20 year old son, a bartender? A drunk, idiotic bartender?

Fuck everything. John was pissed. John was pissed because he had to make all the effort to find his son in a giant ass country. He was pissed because the good-for-nothing cared more about Live Nude Girls and drinks than his life's work.

He walked up to, and behind the bar, grabbed his son by the shirt collar and dragged him out into the drenched, dark night.

Castiel smiled from his ethereal plain. Good on John for listening to his directions. Good on John for using "his gut". Now, if only they could solve all their problems as easily.

Once outside, John threw Dean against the wall in a fit of rage. "You listen here, boy. I have things enough to do without having to find you every few weeks. I have Sam to take care of, and things to hunt."

"Sam? You think you're TAKING care of Sam? He is fine without you, and he's ALWAYS been fine without you. Let Sam be. If he wants to be a lawyer, he fucking deserves that."

"You don't get to leave this life so easily."

"Maybe you don't, but Sam sure fucking can. He's not built to take on monsters forever. He wants to do things, be recognized. Settle down, have a family some day. He's only six-fucking-teen, and he already knows what he wants from life!"

John's arm had crept up Dean's throat, so that a hefty jab with his elbow could easily kill Dean. And he knew that John would have.

"Get in the car, you shit."

Dean was gonna lose the battle. He knew he would lose because his father never backed down for anything. He remembered John before the accident, back when he would read Dean bedtime stories and tell him he loved him. Back before they had to be raised by Bobby because only Bobby understood that there was both work and play necessary to succeed. John had been soft, sweet, and careful. He danced with Sam, sang with Dean. Even though Sam was barely a year old, Dean remembered the smile that appeared on his face whenever John would hold him close.

Castiel watched the interlude between father and son with a heavy heart. Heavy because Dean was correct, but his destiny wouldn't let it play out fairly. Sam deserved college, a nice life, a pretty wife and wonderful children. Sam had a knack for giving his all when it came to other people. But the cards were different. The cards were always different. Everything that they wanted seemed to be just out of reach for the Winchester boys, and would continue to be so for their entire lives.

Castiel, aside from their tender moments right after Dean's birth, had never met either one in person. He had taken care of Dean in times of trouble, but Dean had never known him. Of course, Cas knew that he'd meet his permanent host within a decade, James Novak, but for the moment he was just energy. Empty energy, lonely energy. His brothers and sisters were of no help. He wanted to be flesh. He wanted to taste a hamburger and feel ocean wind in his hair. The waiting, a few thousand years of it, was easily the hardest part about immortality.

Dean went up to his apartment for a moment, and came back with two duffle bags. They had obviously been previously packed.

"That's all you own?" John asked.

"You were the one who told me not to get attached."

The moment was suddenly tender, as John realized that his son would never forget his teachings, even if he ran away. John ruffled the adult's hair, handed him the keys and climbed into the passenger's side.

That was a moment.

That was their moment. 


End file.
